Auld Lang Syne
by Ashii78
Summary: Sequel to Eviction Notice and Tis The Season. Flatmates Arthur and Eames celebrate their first New Year's Eve together.


When Arthur first sees advertisement for the grand festivities of the New Year, his initial thought is to shut off the television. He thinks this harsh instinct spawns from his real lack of accomplishments over the year. The fact that he's still at the same job, working at the same level, running errands for the boss and sketching buildings in his free time does not allow for him to sing much praises.

He leaves the television on mute and instead focuses on the paper's in front of him. He's been living every day as normal, ever since the kiss on Christmas Day that neither of them had discussed, because he's realized that if something like that didn't change anything, what would?

Still, he allows himself to sneak glances at the television, how the news is discussing the festive ball drop in New York's Times Square - Seattle has a similar event involving the elevator at the Space Needle, but he's not interested in that. If there was one place he'd rather be on New Year's, he suspects that New York City is it. Or Paris, maybe Paris.

Arthur hears the keys turning in the door to their apartment and quickly shuts off the television, pretending to be entirely absorbed in sorting their finances when Eames steps in.

"How'd it go?" He asks, nonchalant in his appearance. "At the gallery? Was anyone interested?"

"Things are looking up," Eames hums, flashing a cheerful grin when Arthur finally looks his way. "Yusuf says we've got a few intrigued customers and I couldn't ask for any more than that. Shall we celebrate - I've a bottle of Chardonnay and a lovely Merlot."

Arthur tries to be happy for the other, he really does, but the smile that he wears is tight, "Well, that's good. You deserve it, something more."

"Don't you think, my darling," Eames starts, suddenly beside the other, leaning over the back of the couch, "That you deserve something more, as well?"

Arthur doesn't even take a moment to contemplate that question, swatting the older man away before he says, "Chardonnay, if you would."

They both know that he's avoiding it, avoiding accepting his situation with work for what it really is, but Eames gives in. He complies by hanging up his coat and stepping into the kitchen. They toast to the potential of his new sales and neither of them mention New Year's.

* * *

><p>A day later, he quits his job.<p>

How it happens is mostly a blur, but Arthur knows it has something to do with an up-and-coming construction project and how he'd applied for the position of head architect and how he's been denied once more the chance to shine.

It wouldn't have been so bad, he thinks, if perhaps his boss had selected someone who was easily ten times the architect he was - except that he doesn't. He picks David Taylor, a man who has only been at their architecture firm for all of a year and a half. Sure, the man has potential, but this job is high-end and he really, really doesn't deserve it.

Arthur tries not to show how the decision affects him, how it pretty much crushes him, "Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"Mr. Taylor and I," His boss starts, after he's given Arthur the bullshit sympathy and the listless pat on the shoulder. "Take our coffee with two sugars, if you wouldn't mind, Mr. Callahan."

He tells the both of them, as politely as possible, to go screw themselves and gathers his coat.

Eames responds delightfully to this news, kisses Arthur's cheeks and says they should go out to dinner to celebrate. They do, and it's probably way more expensive than they can afford, but it is also delicious and he's feeling liberated and horrified at the same time.

The painter helps him clear out his desk the next day and successfully deflects any of Arthur's bosses attempts at trying to win him back with the promise of a higher pay.

His mind is made up when his boss hesitates to budge on giving him a chance on that new project, doesn't believe that he's more than qualified for the job. Eames says they'll find a job for him, a better one where he'll finally get recognized.

Arthur lets himself believe that.

* * *

><p>"So," He says, like he has several times at this point. The statement has become lifeless, has lost its priorly righteous sentiments and now just seems sad. "I quit my job."<p>

As it was with Eames, the reception of this news is surprisingly ebullient.

"Finally!" Ariadne shouts and Arthur is a little offended, despite her amiable tone. She pulls him into a hug. "It only took you three years."

Mal kisses him twice on the cheek and hugs him tight, "You deserve much better,_ mon cher_."

He really doesn't understand why everyone's so happy for him - he's unemployed and that weight is finally starting to sink in. He turns unenthusiastically back to the rows of wine in the supermarket. It had been decided that both Dom and Mal were throwing a small get-together for New Year's and Ariadne had volunteered herself and Arthur to assist in purchasing the proper party paraphernalia.

"Everyone keeps saying things like that," He frowns, procuring a bottle of classic Champagne from the shelves. "I think that quitting my job is probably the worst mistake I've made in a long time."

"You're only saying that because you're bored out of your mind," Ariadne supplies, and her point is unfortunately valid. He's cleaned the house more times than he can count in these past two days and has seen enough television to last him a lifetime. "Why don't you and Eames go out and do something?"

"Unlike my career, his is escalating." The two women glance at each other and when he catches it, his frown deepens. "Stop, both of you, I am not jealous of him."

"Not perhaps of him," Mal smiles, looping their arms together, and her inherent charm makes it almost impossible for Arthur to be cross with her. "But maybe where his time is going? You are no longer his world."

"-and you are both living in a fantasy." He spots Ariadne beaming in his direction and he groans. "I don't know why I even bother trying to explain anything to either of you, you're both set in your ways."

Ariadne is the first one to sense that he's not willing to discuss the matter any further, even though it is blatantly obvious, and she skillfully switches the topic of their conversation to further ideas for their party.

It would be amazing, she thinks, if they could have a confetti canon and suddenly there's no talking her out of it.

* * *

><p>Arthur knows that the subject is unavoidable, he knew even before it came up later that evening, when Mal had gone home to Dom.<p>

"I'm not kissing anyone at midnight," He tells Ariadne firmly, so that the idea sticks, "I'm going to drink champagne and mourn the loss of my career while everyone celebrates the monumental promise of the coming year."

"I'm not going to let your throw a pity party for yourself," She sighs and he's relieved to see that they're only five minutes away from his apartment. "You know, I set up that kiss on Christmas because I'd hope it would get both of you to move things along."

"Well, it can't have been that great," Arthur tries to sound annoyed, but the whole situation just has him feeling reluctant, ill-at-ease. "He hasn't mentioned it since and I keep telling you that it's because he isn't interested in me."

"No, that's not it." Ariadne sounds far too certain for his liking, like she knows something that he's absolutely clueless to. "At least tell him about the party, let him look over that invitation."

"He can't come," Arthur unlocks the front door to the apartment complex, "He has a meeting with someone who's interested in purchasing one of his paintings, there's no reason for him to know. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Ariadne."

"Arthur-" But he's closed the door, left her there alone and frowning after him.

She gives a frustrated sigh and turns to head home, because she isn't going to let it end like this.

They've been friends long enough for her to know this much - Arthur's too stubborn for his own good and he's not one to easily admit what he wants.

* * *

><p>Eames walks into their living room on New Year's Eve looking confident and impressive in both his stride and his ensemble. He's dressed for business, really, in his dark grey tweed jacket, snug over navy and white plaid. It's still casual, though, because Eames was never a fan of being too dressed-up.<p>

"I have a wonderful feeling about tonight, darling," He grins, and if he's nervous, he's not allowing a hint of it to show. "Wish me luck?"

"You don't need it," Arthur supplies from the couch, where he's pretending that the extent of his New Year's plans are watching the Times Square ball drop on television. "You're going to do fine."

Eames smiles at him, "I'll be back before the countdown."

He hums his acknowledgement and the other is bidding him a soft farewell before closing the door behind him.

When he's positive that Eames is gone, Arthur gets ready within the hour.

He shows up at the Cobb's home in a dinner jacket and slacks, but is sure to keep it a little less formal with a red v-neck sweater and a black tie. They both greet him cheerfully and neither of them mention Eames, which means Ariadne has told them something. Mal leads him to the champagne and chats with him for awhile.

In that time, he's able to forget about it all. He clears his mind of the previous year, the fact that he'd wasted so much time being a chore-boy to his old boss, because everyone's right, the new year holds endless latent possibilities, opportunities lying dormant until that clock strikes midnight, until he wakes up to a new day. He chooses to neglect the fact that it may be those several glasses of champagne and that pleasant buzz they induced that has him making all of these startling realizations - at least he's feeling uplifted for the first time in these past few days.

This sensation, this sudden exhilaration, does begin to die down an hour later, when there's only ten minutes until this side of their world will be ringing in the New Year. There's only ten minutes until everyone around him will be kissing their loved ones and he'll be cradling a glass of champagne and another three-hundred and sixty-five days will be gone.

2012 is coming and he can only wonder if, in those twenty-eight years that he's been around, he has really done enough. Has he enough merit to account for almost thirty years of existence?

Arthur actually snorts into his glass - he's a bit drunk - and reflects on the fact that he does spend too much time thinking, not enough time living.

Five minutes and everyone is gathered around the television. He declines when they invite him over, opting to gaze at what he can of the illuminated Seattle skyline from the Cobb's second story deck. He knows, above the tip of the Space Needle, they'll soon be lighting off fireworks and their shrill cries and their colors will be heard and seen by hundreds of thousands, neighbors and those from afar.

Sixty seconds, he catches from inside, sixty seconds until 2011 is no more.

Forty-five; Ariadne beckons him to come inside. He smiles at her and shakes his head, turns to the Seattle skyline once more.

Thirty and he can hear Phillipa and James, Mal and Dom's two children, and their bubbly voices calling their uncle Arthur in. He waves at them from where he's leaning against the balcony rails.

Twenty and then ten; Ariadne's readied the small confetti canon that she talked them into and he momentarily feels her gaze on him.

Nine and he here's the sound of the Cobb's front door opening.

Eight.

Seven; Eames is standing in the living room looking winded, Yusuf is behind him, smiling affectionately down at Ariadne. When had they...?

Six.

Five and the painter is in front of him, regarding him with something that's familiar to him. He seen it a number of times since they've lived together, remembers it in the grey of Eames' eyes on Christmas Day.

Four.

Three - endearment, fondness, warmth, is that what he's thinking of?

"How long have they known each other?" Arthur asks, instead of wondering why he's here. Ariadne more than likely has something to do with it, or maybe Eames had found the invitation. "Ariadne and Yusuf, did you introduce them?"

"There will be plenty of time for that later, dove," He grins, "Shall we?"

Two.

Arthur has just enough time to ponder exactly what it is Eames is referring to before fireworks start shooting off in the distant backdrop of Seattle.

One; Eames kisses him and there's cheering emanating from the living room. It's loud, almost distracting, but Arthur finds that all he can concentrate on is the warm mouth on his own, the tenderness of the kiss, the fulfillment, the joy.

There's a loud pop, after James and Philippa blow into their noisemakers and the cheering has died down a little. The two of them pull away to a shower of confetti and Arthur laughs into another kiss, laughs like he can't remember doing before he moved in with Eames. He doesn't even care that some of the paper gets into his drink.

So much happens in those few seconds, in that one moment where one year becomes another and just like that you're reminded of the rest of your life, how much of it that you've got ahead of you.

"New Year's resolutions!" Ariadne calls out a few minutes, still giddy and tucked underneath the arm of the individual responsible for her midnight kiss, Yusuf. Arthur still has no idea when that happened and will have to talk with her at a later date.

"I'm all set, I have my resolution right here." Eames is looking at him and Arthur feels a little light-headed, almost shy when Eames dusts some confetti off of his shoulder and pulls him in for another kiss. His cheeks feel warm and he knows that it has nothing to do with the champagne. "You lot better get started, I'm way ahead of you."

There's something like an obnoxious cooing sound coming from all of his friends and Arthur scowls at them, but he can't find it in himself to be truly angry. He's too elated, too enraptured in the very idea that Eames never stops holding onto him for the rest of the night. He didn't think it would have bothered him, to be alone on New Year's, but now he's more than glad that he isn't.

They toast to the New Year, minutes after Philipa and James are put to bed, and pass around their vows. Arthur doesn't remember exactly what it is he says, some vague promises about getting a new job and he laughs when Ariadne calls him boring.

What he doesn't say, maybe because he still has somewhat of an image to uphold, is what he honestly vows, what he truly promises.

He wants to keep everything he has, everything that he's gained, for years and years to come.

His new home, his friends and Eames, always Eames, are what he never hopes to lose.


End file.
